


i belong (a long way from here)

by Sholio



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-25
Updated: 2006-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Half-Blood Prince" snippet. There had been magic in her world once. Eileen had thrown it away for love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i belong (a long way from here)

When Eileen was a teenager -- which seemed impossibly distant, though actually it had been less than ten years ago -- she had believed that school must be the worst thing a person could endure and survive.

Ten years older and wiser, she had now learned that misery did not kill you; nor did drudgery, hopelessness or fear. Sixth-year girls holding her head in the toilet, boys her own age ignoring her at dances ... these innocent cruelties might have made her laugh now, except that she had stopped laughing a long time ago.

There had been magic in her world once. Eileen had thrown it away for love -- knowing herself plain and lacking in social grace, believing that no boy would ever look her way, she'd been knocked off her feet by the homely, coarse-mannered Muggle boy who took a fancy to her on summer vacation.

A sudden snapping of thread startled her from the haze of daydreams, the world she much preferred to her real life. She'd reached the end of a skein. Unrolling another, she re-threaded her needle, cursing softly as she accidentally stabbed her finger. Her eyes weren't what they used to be -- ten years of close work in dark rooms had taken their toll. Or perhaps there wasn't anything in the world that she wanted to look at, anymore.

She could have threaded the needle in an instant with her wand. A few more waves of the wand, and the large pile of other people's mending in the corner of the dank flat would be sewn up, folded and ready to return to their wearers. Tobias would be out until dark, surely -- he never came home from the bar until the money ran out.

Her hand twitched rebelliously. She stilled it.

Tobias would know. He always knew when she'd used magic. Her eyes, she thought bitterly; her eyes gave her away. She'd been quite successful at lying in school, but she could never lie to her husband. Dull as he was in other areas, in prying out her secrets he was an adept.

The needle threaded, her fingertip still stinging, she leaned forward and shoved ther small, grimy window open as far as it would go. The window jolted another few inches, then stuck again, but at least she had a little more light. The electricity had been shut off a few days ago. Soon, she thought, they'd be evicted again -- unless she could somehow convince Tobias to keep back a little money to buy them time with their various creditors. She could make more money somehow ... take in more sewing (though heaven knew when she'd find time for the pile she already had), maybe try again to find some sort of menial job where she could keep the boy with her. Finding work used to be a lot easier, even though she had few non-magical skills -- scrubbing pots wasn't that hard, even without magic. But they couldn't afford day care, and most employers did not look kindly on a woman with a young child in tow, even such a quiet and serious child.

Speaking of the boy ... she rose in her seat to peer out the window. It was hard to keep track of a child who didn't squeal and carry on like other kids his age. He was still sitting where she had last seen him, in a vacant lot across the street from their run-down block of flats, crouching with his arms wrapped around his bony knees and his too-intent gaze fixed on the cracked cement and weeds at his feet. He'd been like that for some time, and she wondered what had drawn his attention now. An anthill, maybe; a dead bird's body; a dandelion, unfurling in the sun. Eileen didn't know much about children, but she'd never seen one with such a single-minded fascination with the workings of the world around him. She herself had gotten acceptable marks in school, but she was no brain -- and Tobias, she'd become convinced, was not even up to usual Muggle standards. Yet somehow, between the two of them, Eileen believed that they had somehow produced a genius.

He'd do well in Ravenclaw, she thought -- or perhaps Slytherin, her own house; he was ruthless enough: she'd once seen him kill an injured dog in the street with a stick, so that he could dissect it.

No good could come of such speculation. Even if the boy had the magic (and she hoped he did not), Tobias would never let him within a country mile of Hogwarts. Especially now, after his accident, when Tobias could not work and spent all his time drinking. It seemed to Eileen that any hint of talent shown by his wife and son lowered him a little bit more in his own eyes. He'd always disapproved of her magic -- parlor tricks, he called it, or Satanism when he was in his blackest moods -- but since the accident, he'd broken her wand and made sure to show with fists and words that even talk of magic would not be tolerated in his presence.

No, Severus would not attend Hogwarts while Tobias lived, Eileen was sure of that. The bitter thought occurred to her that her son would probably live out his life in neighborhoods like this one, working on the docks as his father once had, or ending up as one of those burned-out, old-before-their-time husks of men drinking themselves to death in doorways and abandoned houses. No sense in hoping otherwise. Like magic and laughter, hope was a thing Eileen had left behind.


End file.
